BORDERS are fascinating. What are borders but arbitrary lines drawn by human beings to demarcate what is collectively “us” versus “them” – whomever that may be.

One particularly memorable border crossing experience I had was back in 2000 at the start of the new millennium (remember the Y2K scare? What a brilliant marketing move by tech companies).

My local former university mates decided to make a trip to Singapore to meet up with our Singaporean ex-classmates so it was decided that we would take an express bus down south on a Friday and return back to the Klang Valley on the Sunday. A quick trip.

And what a quick trip it was – it was probably the fastest trip to Singapore by bus I had ever taken. Now, reminiscing about it, I feel I have the right to brag.

We boarded the express bus outside the Mughal-inspired old Kuala Lumpur railway station at around 9.30pm on a Friday night.

The night was clear and cool and as I boarded the express bus (this was before the standardised amenities-laden present-day express buses), I noticed that the tinted windows of the air-conditioned bus were opaque dark even from the inside and I could see my own and the other passenger’s mirror-like reflection as I made my way to the back of the bus (it was free seating).

My mates were spread across the bus too, taking up the empty seats for extra leg and shoulder space for maximum comfort.

Quite swiftly the doors closed as it wasn’t a full load and the bus made its way out of downtown KL.

I was pretty tired and sleepy, and sitting at the back of the bus where the swaying is at the peak, I was pretty soon fast asleep.

While being rocked asleep, I did feel the rocking was rather intense but since the windows were opaque from the inside and I couldn’t really judge how swiftly the streetlights were zooming past, I just stayed asleep most of the time.

As I entered my REM sleep, I was awakened by the bus driver who indicated that we had arrived at a rest stop and we had 15 minutes for a toilet and refreshment break.

I figured that we were probably at the Ayer Keroh R & R, so I paid no mind to the time or location and headed straight to the restroom at the layover.

As I walked back towards the bus after my business, I took a look at my watch to check the time (there were no handphones yet then and I still had a watch) and realised that it was around 15 minutes to midnight.

I know my way around the PLUS North-South Highway (my life is a highway), so like I presumed earlier by the traveling distance, we must have been in Malacca the furthest.

How wrong I was. The R & R was actually in Johor and a part of Johor that was very near the Causeway. We had made a dash of 300km in a little less than two hours.

That must be some record time for sure – putting the ‘express’ into express bus. We boarded, and in less than 15 minutes we disembarked to get our passports stamped and all in Johor Baru.

So, as I mentioned earlier, I find borders fascinating because of their arbitrariness. As we headed towards the booths, only one was open and the general area was dimly lit.

As I proceeded past the gates, there were overflowing rubbish bins, a grimy floor, a stench, and a broken escalator – so we walked up with larger strides than we usually do on stairs – what else is new in Bolehland in the new millennium, I thought to myself.

We boarded once again and, as the bus trudged across the Tebrau Strait on the Causeway bridge, I felt the excitement you feel every time you enter a different country, an irony not lost on me since Singapore and Malaysia were one at one point in time.

As we disembarked again to get our passports stamped in Woodlands, everything was brightly lit, clean bins, zero stench, and the best part – two fully operational escalators leading us into Lion City.

Such a contrast for sure but that’s not really the point – enough of the Singapore-Malaysia comparisons – what I’m getting at here is how borders really make it easier and convenient to draw an imaginary line and – somewhat superficially – decide what and who is better or worse than the other.

It is an imaginary line that has very real repercussions – countries go to war to draw imaginary lines. Yet such lines are also drawn internally and in diverse Malaysia, lines are often drawn not by the populace but those who wield influence and power.

The populace aren’t fools but they are affected by these drawn-up borders between people, faiths and cultures for better or worse. At the very least, annoyed.

Annoyed I am as I order my char kuey teow from my favourite stall in Kajang in the present, and remind the uncle to give me chopsticks not fork and spoon because I’m Malaysian and I know how to use chopsticks even though it’s not an “indigenous” tool for me.

Likewise in Singapore during that trip, I had to constantly remind the uncles and aunties at the food courts there to give me chopsticks and not draw borders on me because I don’t look like someone capable of wielding one. We do not assimilate – we adapt and learn.

Naturally, Malaysian char kuey teow tastes better. – December 17, 2021.

* Azmyl Yunor is a touring underground recording artiste, and an academic in media and cultural studies. He has published articles on pop culture, subcultures and Malaysian cultural politics. He adheres to the three-chords-and-the-truth school of songwriting, and Woody Guthrie’s maxim “All you can write is what you see”. He is @azmyl on Twitter.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.